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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844964">The Space Between Us</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuen/pseuds/yuuen'>yuuen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Enemies to Lovers, First Time, I sensed tension and came as fast as I could, M/M, Mild enemies to lovers, POV Felix Hugo Fraldarius, POV First Person, POV Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:41:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,818</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844964</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuuen/pseuds/yuuen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix never imagined he'd have to endure a university summer camp with a cabin roomie he utterly loathes. Sylvain is all about finding fun and friendship at the mountain getaway but he just can't get through to his sour-faced camp partner. Can they untangle the tension between them before it ruins camp for everyone?</p><p>Written for the <a href="https://twitter.com/FE3HAUBang">FE3H AU Bang</a>, with art by <a href="https://twitter.com/Bringmemisery/status/1351349659860566016?s=20">@bringmemisery</a>!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Three Houses AU Bang</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Felix had many goals on his summer to-do list. Losing his virginity wasn't one of them.</p>
<p>His breaths are heavy. His lips and tongue ache with each kiss; he's out of practice when it comes to making out. The rain taps relentlessly onto the tent, shrouding their unguarded moans, ensuring their campmates can't hear their nocturnal activities.</p>
<p>Felix can't see his face in the cool dark, only feels his mouth on his neck, his strong hands roaming over his body. Just barely makes out the silhouette of his broad shoulders against the midnight-gray polyester backdrop. The tent is humid, spiced with his scent: the same cheap green body wash, 2-in-1 shampoo, and Old Spice that Felix rolled his eyes at in their shared bathroom, now taking their revenge in the vague but pervasive shape of arousal.</p>
<p><em>How did I get here?</em> Felix wonders through it all. <em>And with</em> him?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Nature Corps Summer Camp</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix gets a taste of his summer camp life and an introduction to his cabin mate.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3><p>The last time I went to summer camp, I was ten. All I remember about it twelve years later is that I hated it, but it meant time away from my family and feeling like a proper grown-up. It had to be about a week, but back then it felt like an entire summer. Dad said Glenn had done such great shit at his nine-week-long camp that I refused to call home and say I hated it there the second day into my lame ass week. No, I toughed that shit out. Totally didn't cry or anything.</p><p>Totally.</p><p>So, yeah, I wouldn't have given the cheery Nature Corps Summer Camp flyer a second thought were it not for Professor Eisner urging me to go. A decent handful of credits towards my major to endure two months in the wilderness with strangers? Unlucky for me, I like my professor too much; all my trust is in him, and right now, I'm not entirely sure it should be.</p><p>Regret creeps in as the bus struggles up the narrow mountain road. I watch cars overtake us, wondering silently if any of them will wreck—the roads are way too winding to see if anyone's barreling down the steep grade in the oncoming direction.</p><p>A howl of laughter rips my attention away from the road.</p><p>The coach is filled with about twenty-five other college students, a couple of them in my classes. There are another few I recognize from campus, but the majority of them are complete strangers. Thankfully, I'm sat beside someone who has done nothing but sleep quietly the entire way. The rest of the bus hasn't gotten the memo. They're so rowdy that I momentarily wonder if they're high schoolers and I've gotten onto the wrong bus.</p><p>I look down at the flyer in my hands, folded and unfolded so many times that the ink is worn away in the seams.</p><p>
  <em>Nature Corps Summer Camp</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Open to university students 21 and up!</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Earn credits in select majors!</em>
</p><p>The same obnoxious, loud laugh from before pulls my attention back to the bus. It's a redheaded guy four rows ahead, halfway out of his seat, loudly yapping to his bro across the aisle. The word <em>pussy </em>leaves his mouth; it's more offensive given the captive audience. My nostrils flare with disgust. I recognize the hyena, vaguely; he goes to the same school, unfortunately. If <em>he's</em> the example of the typical camper this summer, I wonder if it's too late to ask for an Uber back to civilization, or perhaps a rocket into the sun.</p><p>I tuck my AirPods into my ears, drowning out the noise with music.</p><p>The redhead continues yapping away. Blessedly, I can't hear a thing but soft, feminine vocals over gentle electronic beats. I peer over at my napping seatmate. Yeah, still out, somehow, through the loud chaos of it all. He'd probably sleep through the end of the world.</p><p>Once the mountain road levels out and they pull into the campground, it's up to me to shake the guy awake. He stirs with heavy eyelids. His long hair sticks to his cheek from being smashed into his neck pillow for three hours.</p><p>"We're here," I say, in case that wasn't obvious.</p><p>"Mmrph," is all the response I receive.</p><p>If I wasn't sure I was on the right bus before, I'm <em>really </em>unsure when a bouncy pair of camp counselors (if that's what they call themselves) leaps up the stairs to face us. They look like cheerleaders and they're way too upbeat for my taste.</p><p>"Welcome to camp, everyone!" the girl exclaims. She's tiny; she could pass as a high-schooler. I pull out my earbud just in time for everyone on the bus to yell back at the girl in response. My seatmate and I meet eyes; he looks equally worried and maybe even slightly disgusted.</p><p><em>God, I hope we're in the same cabin,</em> I think, feeling instant kinship with this green-haired nap enthusiast.</p><p>"My name is Flayn," the girl continues, "and this is my fellow Camp Leader for the Nature Corps Summer Camp, Dimitri!"</p><p>"Hello!" Dimitri says cheerfully. His voice is a lot deeper than I expect. "Flayn and I are here for anything you might need. If you have any issues or questions, you can talk to us or our assistant leaders, who you'll meet in a little bit. Please don’t hesitate to ask us anything; we want your experience here to be positive and a time to remember."</p><p>"Absolutely!" Flayn chimes back in. "With all that said, welcome once again to camp! Stretch out and gather up your stuff, then meet us out at the main plaza for the first day rundown! Gosh, I'm so excited to meet everyone!"</p><p>Well, my fears are confirmed: <em>Gosh!</em> I'm not on the wrong bus.</p><p>My seatmate and I wait for the rush of campers to leave the bus rather than being caught up in the crush of bodies. Once they're all out, we get up, grab our bags, and disembark.</p><p>The afternoon sun is far too bright after three hours of tinted windows. The forest is thicker than I expected; I'm too used to the chaparral scrub down the mountain and closer to home. Amazing how such a short distance away it's like a completely different country. The air even feels different: lighter, maybe. Cleaner.</p><p>We grab our luggage from the coach storage. I note the tag on nap-boy's bag, left there from a previous plane trip, given the airline logo on the tag. <em>Linhardt Something-or-Other</em>—I can't read the rest before he whisks the bag away.</p><p>Adjusting the straps on my backpack, I follow the rest of the campers away from the parking lot and towards the campground. The trees clear eventually, revealing the lake mentioned on the flyer. There are four large houses (cabins, I suppose) scattered uniformly around a central area. Around the large firepit are wooden bleachers set up amphitheater style, where Flayn and Dimitri are ushering everyone in to sit.</p><p>I take a seat near the back since I'm nearly the last one there. My sleepy friend sits beside me. The sun is already unbearable; I hope this presentation or whatever it is doesn't take too long. They've got generic pop music blasting from Bluetooth speakers. Maybe I'm getting a headache, but all of this is making my ears throb rather unpleasantly. I'd give anything to just be laid out on a bed staring at the ceiling right now.</p><p>They introduce themselves again (because I guess we already forgot who they are), then introduce their assistant leaders: Claude, good-looking and charismatic I guess, but there's something in his eyes I don't like; and El, a tiny girl with big dick energy who seems like the most no-nonsense of all the camp leaders. I wonder why she's only assistant leader before she mentions something about this only being her second summer working in the program. Yeah, give it another year and maybe she'll knock Dimitri or Flayn out of their positions.</p><p>They explain what Nature Corps is all about and that this camp is geared towards college students in history, anthropology, and science majors. We'll be working at dig sites on the mountain, learning about the area's history, culture, geography, animals, plants, and so on. It sounded pretty lame at first, but when I looked at the website before signing up, it seemed legit, the sort of thing that got me into my archaeology major to begin with.</p><p>That part I look forward to. The rest of it?</p><p>I scan the bleachers, examining the various campers around me: a girl with pink pigtails complaining about how hot it is and how sweat is dripping down her asscrack (yeah, I definitely heard that); a huge beast of a guy who somehow has a corndog (where the <em>fuck </em>did he get a corndog?); the auburn-headed hyena, chuckling it up with the dude next to him even though his attention is on the girl in front of him, since he has a prime viewing angle straight into her cleavage; and even a literal fucking vampire, out-goth-ing even me, sitting in the one spot shaded by a flagpole as if it'll offset the fact that he's in all black at a <em>summer </em>camp.</p><p>The idea of coexisting with these assclowns for two months? Unbearable. I look over at Linhardt with a spark of hope in my heart. The fucker's asleep again. The spark fizzles out.</p><p>Drenched in sweat and hazy-headed from the heat, I almost miss it when the talk of camp partners comes up. Claude explains it to us, about how we'll have a designated camp partner—basically our roommate for two months. The thought of having to share a room with one of these randos is kind of terrifying, to be honest. I just hope we get to choose.</p><p>Linhardt's sleeping head is on my shoulder. He isn't even drooling! Miracle. See, Camp Leaders? We're already comfortable sleeping in the same space. Please let me choose him. Let him be the Pikachu to my Ash. I can tolerate a guy who sleeps all day if it means he leaves me alone.</p><p>"We're gonna sort you all into three Camps!" Claude says. Winking, he adds: "Hope you get into mine, because we're definitely the best." Not gonna lie, he's cute. It bothers the hell out of me. That wink got my ace thighs quivering for the first time in years.</p><p>Flayn—with an exaggerated yet affectionate eyeroll sent Claude's way—sets out weighted balloons in three colors as markers at various points in the plaza.</p><p>"We have El's Red Falcons," Flayn begins, gesturing with a flourish at the red balloons. I want to dislike her for how utterly cutesy she is, but I can't quite bring myself to do it. "Then the Blue Puma Camp, headed by Dimitri. Last and certainly not least, Yellow Deer, led by Claude!" Claude actually bows. If this were a game, he'd consistently be rolling high in Charisma, because he somehow comes off as charming and not just utterly lame when anyone else would. Or maybe that's just my excuse for why <em>I'm</em> so personally charmed.</p><p>At the red bunch, El steps up.</p><p>"Red Falcons!" she says, raising her hand into the air. So short, she has to get everyone's attention somehow. (I wish I could say I didn't know that feel.) "Come on down!"</p><p>She begins to read off a list of names from her red notepad. And there's one that makes my stomach sink: Linhardt. He stirs.</p><p>"What? Someone call me?"</p><p>I consider not telling him but that will only delay the inevitable. I just have to hope I'm in the same Camp. "Yeah. You're in the red group."</p><p>He doesn't ask how I know his name, thankfully. Just gets up and yawns his way down the steps to join the rest of the Red Falcons.</p><p>"One more name!" El teases with a smile. "Who's it gonna be?"</p><p><em>Felix,</em> I nearly whisper aloud, as if voicing my own name will help the universe along in doing the right thing. <em>Come on. It's gotta be me.</em></p><p>"F...."</p><p>
  <em>Yes!</em>
</p><p>"...erdinand!"</p><p>
  <em>Fuck! No!</em>
</p><p>Some preppy jackass in Bermuda shorts stands up and bounds down the stairs. I wish he'd fall and break his pretty face on the dirt of the plaza. He joins the Red Falcons. I look at Linhardt down there, my chance at a quiet, enjoyable roomie experience gone.</p><p>Surely there's got to be someone just as great in the other camps?</p><p>The Blue Pumas are next. Dimitri stands next to his balloons, opening his notepad. "All right, who are my future Pumas? Looks like first is Felix!"</p><p>What? I'm in this nerd's camp? Well, all right then. I get down to the plaza and stand where Dimitri tells me to.</p><p>"Nice to meet you, Felix!" he says. I'm surprised he doesn't try to shake my hand, too; he gives off that particular flavor of white-boy energy.</p><p>"Next, I have... Sylvain? Did I say that right?"</p><p>"Hell yeah you did, buddy!" a voice booms back.</p><p>No. No way. It's the hyena, who doesn't come down the stairs like a normal person, but cuts a path down the bleachers by leaping from seat to seat, just barely making it down without accidentally stepping on anyone. He claps Dimitri on the back as if they've been friends for years, then comes to stand by me. My glare wards him off from doing the same to me.</p><p>
  <em>Try it, bitch, and I'll bite your hand off.</em>
</p><p>"Felix, was it?" he asks. "You go to State, too, right bro?"</p><p>"Yeah," is all I say. Take a hint. I'm not your bro, <em>bro.</em></p><p>The rest of our Camp filters down, and the remaining campers go to Claude's camp. Okay, there are a few people I can work with in the Blue camp. The girls in the group for the most part seem too cutesy for me. Speaking of cutesy, Leader Flayn joins in to offset the uneven ratio of girls to guys. (Seems unfair to have both the Camp Leaders in our camp, but that's not for me to decide.) But given the Camp's past issues with co-ed partners, Dimitri and Flayn explain, official partners and cabin roomies must be same-sex. ("Any gender non-conforming campers, please feel free to talk to me about it and we'll work it out!" Flayn adds understandingly.) That narrows the pool of acceptable candidates for me.</p><p>Basically down to two guys: Dedue, a <em>massive </em>foreign exchange student who blissfully doesn't talk much, and Ashe, a small, freckled boy who's too cheerful for my taste. Okay, so it's just Dedue. Please, if there is a God, let me room with Dedue.</p><p>"All right, friends," Dimitri says. <em>Friends?</em> Really? "To make things fair on my side, I think I shall assign men's partners in alphabetical order, last names! So that means, Felix? Your camp partner is... Sylvain."</p><p>
  <em>Please say sike.</em>
</p><p>"Yooo!" Sylvain says, turning to me with a grin. "We're partners, bro!"</p><p>The smile on my face is definitely forced. There's no way this is going to work. Is it too late for that rocket into the sun?</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had so much trouble posting this omg;; fuck. problem after problem after problem. hoping the rest goes well fffffff</p><p>Anyway, chapter updates on weekends! (hopefully they go smoother than the first one)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sylvain knows Felix is familiar. They've met before.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3><p>Our shared cabin room is too small, our beds too close together for my comfort. I think my parents' master bathroom is bigger than this bedroom. While its size leaves something to be desired, it's cozy and pretty, in that cabin-style way. The wood paneled walls would look dated if not for the modern windows and furniture that bump it up to rustic leisure. Plus, we get our own bathroom, so even if I have to share with an idiot, at least it's just one idiot and not the entire floor.</p><p>There's a thud from overhead; the ladies are all on the second floor and the guys downstairs.</p><p>"Too bad about the co-ed rooming," Sylvain sighs.</p><p>"I guess," I say, stowing my clothes into the drawers I decided were mine. I don't have much of an opinion on who sleeps with who. The policy has zero effect on me.</p><p>"Not that stairs stop anything, though," he says suddenly, grinning.</p><p>If he even tries to sneak a girl in here, I'll go off. I just happen to pull my pocket knife out of my bag next, and I set it onto the top of the dresser with a loud thud. His eyes dart down to it and a nervous twitch tugs at the corner of his mouth.</p><p>"What, you planning on skewering some snakes, Indiana Jones?"</p><p>I glare at him.</p><p>"...Oookay," is his response. He's blissfully quiet for a minute before adding: "Yo, please tell me you've seen Indiana Jones."</p><p>"Oh my <em>god," </em>I snap,<em> "yes,</em> I've seen Indiana Jones." I'm an archaeology major. Just seemed like a piece of pop culture I had to learn.</p><p>Sylvain stares at me like I've just slapped him across the face.</p><p>"Sorry," I mumble. "Sun gave me a bad headache. That was kind of harsh."</p><p>"Little bit, yeah." He tilts his head, apparently still determined to bother me even after that. "So what're you here for?"</p><p>"My anthro advisor made me go," I say, simplifying the issue a bit. No one can <em>make me</em> do anything, not even Professor Eisner.</p><p>"Eisner got to you too, huh?"</p><p>I glance at him over my shoulder. I didn't stop to think that this giant jock had to be here for a nerdy major, or that his area of study might even be the same as mine.</p><p>"Knew I saw you somewhere before," Sylvain goes on. "Pretty sure I've waited for office hours with you before."</p><p>"Huh." It's all I manage. My memory must not be as good as his. That, and I'm too upset at the idea of being in more classes with him the closer we get to graduation. I had the luxury of never realizing he existed until this camp. All good things must come to an end.</p><p>"Not only that, but... you didn't go to Itha Elementary, did you?"</p><p>My heart ices over and my cheeks go unusually hot. Prickling hot. I can't stop the way my eyes go wide as I turn to him, my arms still halfway sunken into my bag.</p><p>"You did!" Sylvain laughs incredulously. He leans back on his hands, the bed creaking under the applied weight. "Holy shit. Felix Fraldarius. You really don't remember me?"</p><p>My headache only increases in intensity as I rummage through my memory banks trying to place the connection to this fool. I can't. I shake my head.</p><p>"Damn. You've really changed."</p><p>"Of course," I grumble, zipping my luggage shut at last. "That's what people do. They grow up. They change." I drop my luggage onto the floor and give it a solid nudge with my foot until it's under the bed and out of the way. "I don't remember you."</p><p>"You were like, the shortest kid in school," Sylvain says.</p><p>"No, I wasn't." There were definitely kids smaller than I was. I think.</p><p>"Nah, you totally were. And you were always chasing me around showing me shit you found." He pitches his voice up and waves his hands around. "'Sylvain, Sylvain, look!' And you'd just show off your collections. Little rocks. Plants. Even a lizard, once."</p><p>Something tugs at my brain. Familiar. My tiny hands cupping a side-blotched lizard and lifting it up to a sixth grader. I can't remember his face. Just a black hoodie and the faded echo of a laugh.</p><p>"You always gave me the candy you got from teachers when you got one hundreds on your quizzes," Sylvain says, and I realize his memory is far better than my own—that's exactly the sort of thing I would have done. "I thought it was so weird. Like, what kind of kid didn't like candy? Shit, man. I can't believe that was you."</p><p>"Neither can I," I mumble.</p><p>The idea that I knew this moron in grade school is unfortunate. I want to pretend it isn't true, but it's not like there was another Felix at Itha, either.</p><p>"Well, as long as you don't stick lizards into my hands, I think we're cool, yeah?"</p><p>I say nothing, just spare him a long look that sends enough of a message:<em> I won't be placing lizards or anything else in your hands because I don't intend on us getting close or friendly.</em></p>
<hr/><h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3><p>It's not that I have a magical memory. I mean, it's not bad, either—there's a reason I'm such a quick-headed DM for all my D&amp;D campaigns. But Felix isn't exactly forgettable.</p><p>Elementary school. I was in sixth grade, he was in fourth. I think the first time I talked to him, I was sitting on the sidelines, watching a game of dodgeball. I couldn't play because I'd broken my arm and Felix asked me about the neon green cast I had on. He was a cute kid who didn't make friends in his own class or grade. A little too weird for them, maybe. Just a little... off.</p><p>But I remember wondering why because he was giggly and fairly enthusiastic about his interests. They just happened to be interests that other kids weren't into. He had this book about medieval castles he'd always carry in his blue, star-pattern backpack. During recess he'd come find me and open it up, pointing at all the little details in the illustrations, explaining to me how trebuchets and ballistas worked, and what the difference was between them. I still remember that twenty years later.</p><p>I just didn't connect that adorable kid to <em>this</em>.</p><p>A month or so ago, I was waiting for Eisner's office hours. It was hot as hell, the sort of day where you realize spring's over and summer's stomping through the door. And I remember Felix sitting there in all black. I was sweating my ass off. I'm sure he was, too, but you can never really tell other people are sweating when you're so focused on your own sweat dripping off your hair, down your back and into your crack.</p><p>The most unfortunate part of why I remember him isn't because it was the clichéd movie "hottest day of spring in twenty-five years" or because he was in all black and not sweating.</p><p>It's because I thought he was kind of cute with his little lopsided pigtail. Long fingers with neat nails, the sort with long nail beds that remind me of classical goddess sculptures you see in museums and art books. Slim legs crossed at the knee, sexy as fuck, with unexpectedly thick thighs for such a waifish figure.</p><p>And then realizing five long seconds after all this that he wasn't a chick.</p><p>Man, that was a bummer.</p><p>Weird to find out we're partnered up for this camp. A little awkward, I suppose, but only for me. He doesn't know I thought he was a cute, little-titty goth girlfriend. Just that we were sort-of elementary school friends. So it's all good.</p><p>Except, wow, no it's not: he's a massive bitch.</p><p>He says it's a headache but something about the natural downwards tilt of his mouth suggests he's either got a headache every day or he's just always a sourpuss. I get the distinct impression he's determined to hate me. Maybe he's like that to everyone, but damn. Tone it down.</p><p>What happened to the adorable kid running across the playground to show me his medieval castles, sword drawings, and lizards? Guess we all change growing up and not always for the better.</p><p>Well, fuck it. Not letting this stick-ass ruin a summer getaway.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Hike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cabin leader Dimitri leads the Blue Pumas on a hike, followed up by a refreshing dip.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3><p>We get to know the campground and surrounding mountains through a hike. I dig a good hike. I wouldn't be out here if I didn't look forward to getting outside and taking in the nature. Somehow, even big cities feel cooped up after a while.</p><p>But it's the height of summer and sweat's already pouring down my back a mile in. A little sun's great—quick mood booster, you know—but I've never much enjoyed the heat. Sticky skin, wet clothes, prickling heat beneath the skin you can't quite shake off. Winter's boring as hell, but at least you can put clothes on when you're cold; only so much you can get rid of in the summer, and I don't think Dimitri would approve of me stripping down for a naked hike. Dork.</p><p>Our slow and steady incline suddenly roughens out to craggy boulders like steps carved into the mountainside. Our cabin's mostly tall dudes save for two. Long legs make it easier to step up the rocks. Dimitri leads the way, then Dedue. (Dude's a beast. Never seen biceps that fucking massive. Respect.) I come up behind him, clearing the biggest boulder with a brush of my fingertips against the dirt. I turn around, immediately reaching my hands down for Mercedes behind me.</p><p>She's cute as hell in her pink shorts and bob haircut. Even the beads of sweat on the tip of her nose add to her whole look. Overall, she's kind of got those Bible school vibes but whatever. I can work with that. She takes my hands and I help her up. Girl's heavier than she looks but I should've expected it, honestly; she's a little thick. (I like that, too. No hate.)</p><p>"Thank you... um. I'm sorry, I forgot your name." She laughs. Gentle, breathy. I can't get over how cute she is.</p><p>"Sylvain," I remind her. "You're welcome."</p><p>She beams at me in that soft way she has and moves on. I reach down to help the next one.</p><p>"I don't need your help," Felix spits.</p><p>Or not.</p><p>If I'd seen him coming up behind Mercedes in the first place, I would've kept going. He bypasses my hands, still held out, and boosts himself up onto the rock.</p><p>"Whatever you want, shorty," I mumble, straightening up. I pull my hands back and wipe the sweat from my chin instead. More productive use, that's for sure.</p><p>He glares at me. Looking like that, he's definitely murdering me in his mind fifty different ways. I've seen that look from girls before. I know it well.</p><p>
  
</p><h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3><p>
  <em>Shorty.</em>
</p><p>He just called me <em>shorty. </em>The word left his (pea) brain, traveled up his tongue, and jumped off his lips to assault my ears. Yeah, I hate him. It's official.</p><p>I stare at him. He's a mess. His striped shirt and the bandana tied around his head are both soaked with sweat. His hands are dusty somehow; why would I want to touch them? He uses the back of his dirty hand to dab at the sweat below his lip. It's enough to make me want to shower just being in close proximity to him.</p><p>But all I can think of is how to discreetly murder this man in his sleep once we're back at the cabin. Knife's all well and good, but a pillow will silence the screams.</p><p>I bite my tongue. Walk on. Ignore the self-satisfied smirk on his face.</p><p>Dimitri clearly has faith in his Blue Pumas this summer, because this is a hell of a hike, and I love hikes. We followed the other two cabins before Dimitri decided to fork left instead of right with the rest. It's fine; I can handle a day of vigorous exercise. Just surprising. We have to stop every now and then to allow some of the campers a break.</p><p>Mercedes, I think her name is, looks close to passing out. Poor thing. She clearly isn't a gym bunny. A hike in summer can be dangerous even for experienced hikers.</p><p>"Just wait," Dimitri assures us. "It's not much farther. I promise—you’re getting a much better view on this trail."</p><p>He's right. As we descend a rift between mountains, the trees clear and the rocks even out, revealing the remarkably teal water of a creek and its accompanying waterfalls. The hissing roar drowns out the beat of my heart between my ears. I can taste the mist as we approach.</p><p>"Fuck, man," Sylvain says. "I could jump in with all my clothes on."</p><p>"Fine by me," I say, stepping past him on the shore. "We don't need the exhibition."</p><p>He narrows his eyes at me. They shine almost catlike when the sun hits them straight on like this. I have to bite my tongue again; I don't know what it is about him exactly that makes me want to punch him in the throat. Is it his voice? His pretentious name? His punchable face? (Pretty sure Germans have a word for that.) Whatever it is about Sylvain, I wish he'd just throw himself into the pond and never resurface, so I don't have to look at him anymore.</p><p>"That's harsh," he says as if reading my mind. He smiles, a lopsided thing with the dulled point of his left canine on display. (Maybe it's that crooked smile I hate the most.)</p><p>"I'll cry about it in my diary later."</p><p>Dimitri peers over at us, finally catching onto the tension. But I don't say anything else and just put my backpack down onto the rocks while Sylvain huffs out a laugh and walks the opposite way.</p><p>"It's so pretty," Mercedes coos, dipping her hand into the sparkling water before she thinks to ask: "Wait, is it safe to touch?"</p><p>Laughing, Dimitri nods. "Perfectly safe. Go ahead." He climbs up onto a mostly-flat rock and squints past the sunlight down into the water. "And there’s a shortcut back to the campground, too—it’s much easier from here. Best part about this spot, though?"</p><p>He pulls his shirt off. Annette's eyes open wide and she hides a smirk behind her hand. (He's all right, I guess.) Mercedes squeals as Dimitri leaps into the water, sending up a healthy splash. He surfaces, slicking his blond hair back.</p><p>"You <em>have </em>to get in here!" he calls out. "It's the perfect temperature for a swim!"</p><p>Those of us on the shore glance at each other. Before anyone can say anything or ask who's taking the literal plunge, Annette runs past everyone and leaps, screeching, into the creek. Ashe laughs and looks up at Dedue. They wordlessly agree to strip out of their shirts and make their way into the water.</p><p>Flayn laughs and stands beside me. "Well, this is <em>not </em>what I expected from Dimitri. Don't feel pressured to go in if you're not up to it."</p><p>I raise my brows. Admittedly, the thought of splish-splashing like a child in the water with the rest of them isn't entirely palatable, but given the heat, dust, and physical exertion that preceded this moment....</p><p>"It's fine. I'll get in."</p><p>Mercedes smiles and moves to the rock Dimitri occupied a minute ago. "I think I'll just dip my feet, if that's all right."</p><p>"Me too," Ingrid says, sitting beside her.</p><p>I tug my shoes off and make my way over the tumble of water-smoothed rocks to the creek. The water runs gently, almost imperceptibly, around my ankles as I walk in. It's ice-cold but that's exactly what my overheated body craves. I wade in, shirt billowing up around me on the water's surface. I fight a shiver, clenching my jaw as I sink in until the water's sitting just below my lower lip.</p><p>Swiveling around, I'm met with an inconvenient sight: Sylvain.</p><p>He's already out of his shirt. I wouldn't say heavy muscle is my type but he sits comfortably between bulk and leanness. The asshole has no business having a body like that. It's offensive. To make this whole sight worse, he steps out of his baggy shorts, too. The inconvenience of his broad shoulders and lean waist ramps up to all-out discomfort. Navy blue boxer briefs, hugging tight to every contour. Hard not to make out the shape of his dick.</p><p>I sink deeper into the water to cool my cheeks. Turn roughly away to watch the others splashing like woodland nymphs. Annette's soaked crop top flies past me; I'm too distracted to catch it.</p><p>Sylvain isn't. He lunges past me and snaps the top out of the air.</p><p>"Don't get too spicy, Nette," he shouts, right in my fucking ear.</p><p>"I'm not!" she calls back, snapping her sports bra strap. "But maybe once this camp's over, we can consider a commemorative skinny dip."</p><p>"I will pretend I did not hear that!" Flayn exclaims from shore.</p><p>Sylvain swings Annette's top right into my face with a loud, sopping plunk.</p><p>"Whoops."</p><p><em>Whoops. </em>Fucking <em>whoops,</em> he says. I hate him. I. Hate. Him.</p><p>I wipe the water out of my eyes and peel away the hair plastered to my cheeks. He isn't deterred by my glare. He just smirks, soft and malicious, like a cat that's just pushed a glass of water off a table.</p><p>"Do that again," I mutter. "See what happens."</p><p>He actually laughs. Adding insult to injury, he completely ignores me and turns his attentions onto Ingrid and Mercedes. Ingrid takes Annette's shirt from Sylvain. They chat.</p><p>Fuck him. I stalk off into the waters, low down, crocodilian. Let the whispered rush of water fill my senses. Drown out the laughter, the voices. Only one voice refuses to quiet. It grows louder in my head, the way all noises sound when you're just about to drift into sleep.</p><p>And then it's behind me.</p><p>"What'll happen, then?"</p><p>I only <em>just</em> manage not to flail wildly as I orient myself in the creek. His face takes up my entire view over my shoulder.</p><p>"What?" I snap.</p><p>"You heard me." His voice is low enough that no one else can hear. It strikes me suddenly that I've drifted away from the main group. Not far, but far enough that Sylvain in my space feels terribly unsafe, coupled with the tone of his voice. It's not what I expected from him. "What'll happen if I do that again? You gonna kick my ass? <em>You?" </em>He laughs at that last bit.</p><p>"Go ahead. Laugh."</p><p>"Is that supposed to be threatening?" Raising an eyebrow, he glances back at the main group. Dimitri's swimming over. Both corners of Sylvain's mouth lift into a self-satisfied grin as he—wisely—backs away from me. But he isn't done: <em>"You.</em> Threatening <em>me.</em> Adorable."</p><p>"Everything all right here?" Dimitri asks, in that teacher tone that actually says <em>I know everything isn't all right but if you don't knock it off, I'm making you scrub some floors with toothbrushes.</em></p><p>"Peachy," Sylvain says, swimming off.</p><p>"Felix?"</p><p>"It's fine," I tell him. "I can handle him."</p><p>"You shouldn't have to," Dimitri reminds me. "I know you want to stand up for yourself. You should. But Flayn and I are here to curb any toxic behaviors from campers. We won't stand for any sort of harassment."</p><p>"I got it," I cut in. "It's not that serious."</p><p>"Don't feel like you can't talk to us. We <em>will</em> handle it."</p><p>I stay silent for a moment before deciding I've had enough of this swim. But before I can go, Dimitri wades back into my view.</p><p>"By that, I expressly ask that you don't take matters into your own hands."</p><p>I nod, even as I know I can't—and don't want to—promise him that.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>For as much as I love that childhood friends dynamic canon Sylvain and Felix have going, sometimes you just need to up that spiciness and wonder how it'd be if they weren't friends and never really were.</p><p>Thanks to <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesoleil">vulpesoleil</a>, my official Dimitri Dialogue Editor™.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. After the Hike</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix and Sylvain cool down after the Blue Puma hike but their tempers don't get the memo.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This scene has <a href="https://twitter.com/Bringmemisery/status/1351349659860566016?s=20%22">accompanying art</a> by the awesome <a href="https://twitter.com/Bringmemisery">@Bringmemisery</a>! ✨</p><p>So grateful to have been paired up with a great artist after thinking I wouldn't get paired with anyone. Everything worked out so well. 😭💕</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3><p>The waterfall really <em>is</em> close to the campground. Makes me wonder what the point of the whole roundabout-ass hike was. Mountain views? Nature? Dimitri showing off his stamina? Whatever it was, I'm hot and exhausted. Cooling off in the creek was great. The cold shower upon arriving back at the cabin, even better. Collapsing face first onto the lumpy, creaky bed that's mine for this summer outing? Best.</p><p>I don't even care that it's hot. It's dry heat, far more tolerable post-shower than humid heat. I prop my head up on my folded arms and close my eyes.</p><p>Maybe I doze off. Maybe I don't. Either way, I open my eyes when the bedroom door opens. Ugh. The bat flutters in. Wonder if he notices me; he's reading something on his phone as he dries his hair. Guess that evil eye of his has more important things to be trained on at the moment. Good, because it's admittedly unnerving.</p><p>Yeah, he's a shrimp and I can definitely kick his ass, but still. That glare's venomous as fuck.</p><p>He looks a lot less uptight when his hair's down like that. Or maybe it's the way his face isn't trained on me in full attack mode. As tired as I am, I keep one eye peeped open, watching from just above my elbow as he sheds his bathrobe.</p><p>I don't know why I keep watching. There's nothing interesting for me there. Or there shouldn't be. Yet here I am, fascinated by the shape of his naked arms and the slim grace of his back, at the way it tapers smoothly to the mild swell of his hips, artistic in its subtlety. Even the shitty overhead lighting highlights the dimples of his back, peeking out above the folded-down waistband of his sweats.</p><p>And then all of it is gone as he shrugs a t-shirt over his head. He stops, glancing at the ceiling in mid-thought. His mouth parts and his short, thick lashes flutter as he processes whatever it is he's thinking. I swallow hard. Thinking done, he pushes his sweatpants down his hips and lets them fall to the floor. His thighs are predictably slim but they look incredibly soft; I wonder how they'd feel if I gave them a squeeze. His shirt regrettably obscures his ass, but just enough of it peeks out of his boxer briefs that I'm intrigued. He slips on a pair of basketball shorts instead, hanging boyishly to his knees.</p><p>Decision carried out and done, he turns around. I quickly shut my spying eye.</p><p>I'm left in darkness. His feet make gentle sounds against the floorboards as he moves around the room. He comes close to my bed, sets something down onto the table we share. He smells like fresh shampoo and... is that my body wash? Did I leave it in our shared shower or does he just happen to use the same one? My heart beats a little quickly against the mattress.</p><p>I open my eyes and lift my head. Felix sits on his bed in the oversized tee and long shorts. He looks even smaller in such baggy clothes. A feeling I can't name, soft and pretty, swirls gently around my pounding heart. God, that sounds... gay.</p><p>Shit, it <em>is </em>gay. He's just so cute, it's a shame he's an asshole. This could've been one of those spicy summer flings where two guys experiment together. I ain't even pretending I'm not down for that. A lot of so-called straight dudes are; they're just too scared of themselves to admit it. If only Felix didn't suck in the worst way.</p><p>Before I know it, his eyes are on mine. His mouth locks back into that rigid line, his nostrils flare with distaste, and his brows come down in judgment: <em>I hate you, Sylvain Gautier.</em> He doesn't have to say the words; they're spelled out constantly on his face for me in blazing red neon.</p><p>"What." I think going outside and letting a rattler bite me is safer than the bite of Felix's voice at this point.</p><p>"Jesus," I mumble. "Nothing. You can put your guard down for five fucking seconds, you know."</p><p>Surprisingly, he doesn't respond to that. Just purses his lips, licks them, and looks back down at his phone. His thumbs tap rapidly against the screen.</p><p>I stand up and huff out a note of acrid laughter. "Telling your friends about what a dick you're stuck with?"</p><p>He keeps his head pointed down at his phone but raises his eyes in a slow roll towards me. He's gone from adorable in his oversized clothes to all-out sultry with a look like that. I struggle to keep my face straight; I don't know what's wrong with me. Is it the heat getting to me?</p><p>"Don't flatter yourself," he says. "I'm not obsessed with you."</p><p>"That's not a weird thing to say at all," I remark. I glance down at the bedside table to see what he put down. A bottle of body wash—<em>my </em>body wash.</p><p>"You left it in the shower," he says.</p><p>"And you used it."</p><p>His bare foot twitches against his quilt. "No?"</p><p>I narrow my eyes and smirk faintly. I've caught him in a lie. I can smell it clear across the room. It isn't emanating from the bottle, either; it's got the definite smell of <em>warm Felix </em>mingled in with it.</p><p>"Sure. Okay." I take the bottle and tuck it back into my toiletry bag.</p><p>"Surprised you even bother."</p><p>This time, I'm the quiet one. I glance at him, pointedly raising my eyebrow.</p><p>"You don't seem the type to keep everything organized."</p><p>"Next to godliness and all that," I say, placing the toiletry bag atop the dresser. Felix isn't amused. I'm no saint, that much is obvious. I yield to his flat expression. "Can't function in disorganized space. Mind's too cluttered. Don't need physical clutter on top of it."</p><p>"Hm," is his only response. His phone's still propped up but his thumbs hover wordlessly above it.</p><p>"Girlfriend?" I query. I doubt it. Just don't get the straight vibe from him.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Boyfriend?" I posit, then, glancing at his phone.</p><p><em>"No,"</em> he huffs.</p><p>But he offers no explanation. Guess I'm not owed it. This conversation, if it can be called that, is going nowhere. And to think he started it. Joke's on me for letting him in on something about myself, even if it's something as trivial as my organizational habits. I know nothing about Felix other than what I knew about him two decades ago. Oh, and he's a little liar who won't own up to mooching off my body wash.</p><p>Progress.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wasn't able to post last weekend. A lot of things have been going on (and still are) but I didn't want to go another weekend without updates. So to make up for it, another chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Some Assembly Required</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Felix and Sylvain have to set up a tent, which should be easy, except they don't know how to play nice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Alternate chapter title: <i>spicy boys</i></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3><p>"That isn't the right piece, <em>idiot."</em></p><p>"Yes, it fucking is."</p><p>I toss my hands up and growl. One more second in this asshole's presence and I'm going to go feral. "There's no use arguing with you."</p><p>"Because I know what I'm doing!" Sylvain waves one of the tent pole sections at me.</p><p>"They're color-coded."</p><p>"I said I know what I'm doing," Sylvain insists.</p><p>I grit my teeth. "Fuck this."</p><p>I turn my back on him and get the hell out of the clearing. Just beyond the campground's worn-down corral fencing is a vague blob of sandy dirt, perfect for standing in a rage. Enough room to pace but not so much that pacing turns to ranting. It overlooks a brush-covered grade. My eyes easily follow the trail between here and our cabins; it's not as far as it felt to traverse it. I plant my boots firmly onto the packed earth, a puff of indignant dust to accompany my flounce, and cross my arms.</p><p>With effort, I suck in one big breath and let it leave me in a loud sigh. I hoped it'd drift away on the wind, carried down the hill into the valley. That's what they always say. Deep breathing. Count to ten. That kind of shit. But my hands are still too warm, fingers flexing on my upper arms. My heart thuds painfully in my ribcage.</p><p>I think the only thing that'd make me feel better is pushing Sylvain down this hill.</p>
<hr/><h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3><p>I know what I'm doing. This isn't the first fucking tent I've pitched. God, I'm so pissed I can't even make a joke out of that.</p><p>Felix huffs off towards the overlook just beyond the campsite. Shit, I should give him one hard kick on his non-existent ass. Send him toppling down the mountainside. Don't think Dimitri would be happy with me and I know I'm already on his shit list. Have been since day one thanks to the Frown Clown here.</p><p>I assemble the tent poles with renewed, angry vigor. I might be manhandling this tent harder than it's meant to be handled. It's not even mine; that's the only thing that keeps me from stomping it into the dirt and snapping one of the tent poles over my knee. I like to think I'm even-tempered, but Felix is ruining that.</p><p>Why's he get me this heated? I guess some personality types aren't compatible, but shit. Even common politeness goes a long way. We're here for too long together to be this sorry, irritated pair.</p><p>I glance back up at him, only to catch him just as he turns his eyes away from me and back towards the horizon. I give the back of his head a hard stare. How can someone so, I don't know, <em>dainty,</em> set so much animated rage into motion? I think of the chihuahua my friend had as a kid. Small. Shaky. <em>Angry.</em></p><p>Staring at my assembled tent poles and the orange polyester crumpled atop the footprint, I decide it might be easier to have him help. Unfortunately. Besides, he needs to pull his weight. Am I gonna have to set it all up on my own? Maybe I should, just to show him he's wrong and I'm right.</p><p>I dust my pants off and make my way to the overlook. He groans when he sees me approach, turning his head forcefully towards the sinking sun.</p><p>"Are you gonna pout all night?" I ask. "Or are you gonna help me set this up?"</p><p>"You clearly know everything," Felix responds. He's already got that sarcastic bite to him. "Do it yourself."</p><p><em>Don't kick him off the cliff,</em> I tell myself. <em>Don't do it. Don't. </em>My eyes drop to his ass. I could give him a good kick. Just one. But I clench my fists at my sides and my shoes stay in place on the rocky trail dirt.</p><p>"Look, I don't know why you don't like me," I say flat-out. "But if we're gonna share a room and—"</p><p>"Fine."</p><p>Was it that easy? He whirls around, stomping past me back to the tent. I guess I better get used to the back of him. It's not a bad view, if I'm honest. I follow him to the tent. All the other pairs have gotten their tents set up or mostly finished. It's just us this behind. I see Dimitri past the fire pit, pretending not to watch us but totally watching us. He's waiting to strike if I step out of line with Felix again. You'd think Felix was a girl with how protective Dimitri is of him. Like I'm attacking Felix instead of the other way around.</p><p>"Well?" I say, hand on my hip. "Did I fuck it up, then?"</p><p>He does that thing with his eyes. The one where he looks up at me while his head's still tilted downwards. Condescending and honestly a little scary. But the daggers drop after a second. He picks up the end of the tent pole and begins shoving it into the closest grommet.</p><p>"It works," he admits.</p><p><em>Who's an idiot now?</em> A smug grin lights my face just in time for him to see it. But I don't linger too long. I take up the opposite end of the pole and assemble it. It takes less than five minutes for the rest of the tent to go up with both of us working at it.</p><p>"Why are you like this?" I ask suddenly. I can't let this drop.</p><p>"Why am I like what?"</p><p>"Like <em>that,"</em> I press. "You said it was a headache the first day but either you should see a neurologist or you were just giving me an excuse. What's your damage?"</p><p>"I just don't...." He trails off, his mouth drooping into a line to rival the tent poles. He looks suddenly vulnerable, like I've jabbed at something sensitive for once. I'm a little too pleased with myself.</p><p>"Never mind," I acquiesce. "Maybe it's something fucked up. You clearly weren't always this way. Not to me."</p><p>That hardens him back up. "We're not kids anymore."</p><p>"Couldn't tell." An ugly scoff escapes me before I can stop it. "Not with this childish horseshit you're playing at constantly."</p><p>"Oh, that <em>I'm</em> playing at?"</p><p>If Dimitri isn't on his way across the clearing at the raise of Felix's voice, I'll eat my fucking shirt. I'd look, but I keep my gaze locked firmly on Felix. He stands a foot away from me, staring up at me with fire in those jeweled eyes. I stare right back down, undeterred; venom and spite are good and well until my fist comes into play. I don't give a shit how cute he is or how friendly he was when we were kids. I'll speak to him in the language he's clearly begging me to speak.</p><p>"You're nothing but a clown," Felix says. His voice has lowered considerably.</p><p>"And you're a frigid bitch."</p><p>"Anything I need to know?" Dimitri's voice is louder than ours. He's taller than me, even, and he uses that to his advantage as he asserts himself into the situation. I back away a step and relax my shoulders into an easy shrug.</p><p>"Just that we're done setting up," I tell him.</p><p>"Is that all?" Dimitri looks at Felix.</p><p>I hold my breath. Swallow. A second feels like a minute. But at the end of it, Felix rocks his head to one side in a lopsided nod. "Yeah."</p><p>Well then. That's settled. I smile at Dimitri. It looks genuine, I know it does. I've perfected it over the years. It disarms everyone. But Dimitri isn't as easy as charmed girls or my friends' cooing parents.</p><p>"I expect professionalism and decorum from both of you," he says. "You're in college. Act like it."</p><p>He leaves it there, giving us both a few pointed looks before he walks back into the center of the clearing to help Dedue and Annette set up the fire.</p><p>Their laughter sounds so far away. The wind picks up, scattering Felix's dark strands past his eyes as he looks sidelong at me.</p><p>"First impressions go a long way," he says.</p><p>"Oh, is that what it is?" I hardly care what his problem is with me anymore, only how I intend to correct it. "The impression I'll put into your face will go further."</p><p>I laugh softly. Make my way towards the fire pit. I shoulder check Felix on the way, sending him whirling. It's a physical reminder that I'm taller, broader, and stronger. I don't spare a glance back. I already know the venom I'll find there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Across the Fire</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Fire lights the darkness and reveals hidden truths.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This one is short but important. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3>
<p>He's so satisfied with himself.</p>
<p>The fire crackles, yellow tongues licking at the logs crisscrossed over the pit. In the dark, it's the center of my vision—or it should be. Instead I stare past the blaze, oblivious to the flames ascending into the cool mountain night.</p>
<p>Sylvain. The flames distort him with their heat, but not enough to hide him from me. His face is shaded in darkness with flickering red touching his cheeks, his nose, his lips. His eyes glow as wild as the fire itself. And even in the dark, half my vision black and half of it phosphorescent yellow, I can see the curl of his lips at the corner of his mouth. He smiles too easily. He gives up laughter without hesitation, flirtatious and loud as he jokes with the girls.</p>
<p>He's the joke.</p>
<p>I turn my head forcefully away. The trees have gone black around us, blotting out the brilliant stars. Insects trill in the safety of the shadows beyond our campfire. I draw my blanket closer around my shoulders. It's the middle of summer but once the sun fell, the temperatures out here did too, lower than they've been in days.</p>
<p>My eyes find their way back to the fire and, unbidden, to Sylvain.</p>
<p>Without his friends from the bus here to hype him up, he might be mistaken for charming. Mercedes and Annette indulge him, anyway. Whatever they say, I can't hear over the fire and the crickets and the din of conversation all around. He runs a hand through his hair, which glows almost neon red in the firelight. The same hand he threatened to make an <em>impression </em>with. I almost want to laugh. What a typical high school level jock. He can't be serious—</p>
<p>His eyes, molten gold, meet mine.</p>
<p>Fuck. I hurriedly look away. My heart's in my throat and my stomach's somewhere at the foot of this log I'm sitting on. There's no way he didn't catch me gawking at him.</p>
<hr/>
<h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3>
<p>Curious. He was staring at me.</p>
<p>Trying to threaten me with that cobra-strike glare of his? Maybe. The venom wasn't in it, though. Maybe it's the fire, but there was something different about his eyes just then. I don't know what to make of it. He makes a point now of looking in every direction but mine.</p>
<p>Mercie and Annette might as well be as far away as the half moon above. No, I'm fixed solely onto Felix. He's tagged me with that guilty gaze. I can't not study him now.</p>
<p>The firelight makes him look severe, highlighting the surprising, knife-point sharpness in his delicate face. His eyes are incandescent red in the fire's glow. He might be small and swathed in black, but his figure somehow cuts through the night around him. For as harshly as the flames light him up, there's an unusual softness in his eyes I've never seen yet.</p>
<p>I realize the red on his cheeks isn't just the fire. He's blushing. Embarrassed. He got got.</p>
<p>And when he chances a look at me again, I'm still staring at him, reveling in his discomfort as another small win on my part. He doesn't immediately pretend not to look this time. He meets me in the crackling, amber space between us, the door to that fortress he calls home briefly open. My lips part and so do his, pink and full. Almost imperceptibly, he trembles beneath that blanket of his. He's beautiful, I think. Brittle and unyielding all at once, a hematite prince with ice in his chest and poison on his tongue.</p>
<p>He loses this staring contest, too. As he keeps his head down and his blanket-shrugged shoulders raised to ward off the night chill, I continue to study him, wondering just what it might be like beyond those walls he's got raised.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Awake, Asleep</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3>
<p>If Sylvain snores any louder, he's going to lure a bear out here to eat us and this tent whole. We don't even <em>have </em>bears in this area. That's how loud he is. What god did I cross to be trapped in a tent with Sylvain Gautier?</p>
<p>I heft myself onto my back. My sleeping bag barely pads the impact and I swear I feel a vertebra slip out of place. I sigh loudly enough to rival Sylvain's snoring.</p>
<p>This whole camp is shit. I should have stuck with my gut. Should have told Professor Eisner thanks, but no thanks. What university students look at a flyer for summer camp—camp is for <em>kids</em>—and think, yes, this is where I need to spend my summer! Around a bonfire with complete idiot strangers, being eaten alive by mosquitoes, wondering if the rattlers are slithering into camp... yeah, real fun.</p>
<p>Are the extra class credits worth dealing with Sylvain?</p>
<p>After dinner around the fire, he was strangely quiet. Just got up and made straight for our tent. Didn't smirk or snicker, didn't threaten to clock me or drop bugs into my sleeping bag. When I came in after him, he was already out.</p>
<p>Realizing that lying on my side or back are equally futile, I sit up. My elbows ache and every muscle in my arm is stiff, locked up from resisting the nighttime cold. Granted, it's summer and "cold" is probably nothing for the rest of the campers, but I'm not as cold-resistant as most. I stretch my neck from side to side as I check my phone.</p>
<p>No signal out here. Maybe if I string Gautier up on the nearby peak he can attract some bars.</p>
<p>The image of his firelit eyes flash into my mind. Steady and constant, even as the flames lashed the dark around them. His stare took me off guard; he took the opportunity to exploit my lack of defense. I couldn't look away then and I can't shake the image now. He's infiltrated my brain.</p>
<p>I want him out.</p>
<p>Even as I think it, I realize I'm, once again, staring at him.</p>
<p>He fidgets in his sleep. "Mmrm."</p>
<p>Ugh. Please don't wake up.</p>
<p>Sylvain rolls onto his back, which thankfully stops his snoring for the moment. The blue glow highlights his strong bone structure, the tendons in his jaw flexing as he swallows, and the heavy dip of his cupid's bow. I guess I get why he's so popular with the girls in the camp. Probably outside of it, too. He's less obnoxious when he's unconscious.</p>
<p>And then he starts snoring again. If I could just smother him with my pillow and get away with it, my summer would instantly improve.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you're enjoying so far. Now that the FE3H AU Bang is over, I may take a short break from posting (either after this or the next chapter) as I just started a new job and need to focus on that for a while. I appreciate all of you who read, leave kudos, and comment; I know there are more popular and prolific writers for this fandom out there so each one of you choosing to take time to read my content means a whole hell of a lot! Thank you! 💖</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Fight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tensions rise on a rainy day in the Blue Puma cabin.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <h3>
  <b>FELIX</b>
</h3>
<p>So much for today's hike. If the rain was light enough we'd be out documenting the mountain flora and fauna, but a storm's rolled in and doesn't look ready to let up any time soon. Rain pounds against the flimsy windows, which clatter noisily within their warped metal frames when thunder rolls across the camp. The common room, warmed by the fireplace, is filled with restless students.</p>
<p>Mercie and Dedue are in the kitchen brewing more tea. Everyone else is either on their phones or playing Catan on the weathered rug between the sofas. I didn't come here to socialize. I guess that's what camp's "about," according to our oh-so-cheerful cabin leaders. After refusing to get in on Catan for the third time, I remove myself from the room, making my way down the long hallway.</p>
<p>A minute into blessed comfort—or as comfortable as this creaky cabin cot gets—the door opens again. Sylvain comes in, utterly drenched.</p>
<p>"God <em>damn,</em> it's comin' down out there!" he exclaims with a grin.</p>
<p>I roll my eyes over him. He's a mess. Auburn hair sopped against his face, the curled ends dripping onto the hardwood. His white shirt is translucent, plastered to his chest. My pulse speeds up. Annoyance, I assume, at the utter lack of common sense or manners.</p>
<p>"Couldn't you have dried off before coming in here like a wet dog?" I complain.</p>
<p>"Whatever. Why're you so pressed? It's not your floor, anyway."</p>
<p>"It is my floor for the summer." I feel my blood vessels tighten in my neck. This isn't worth it. "Never mind. It's no use trying to argue with you."</p>
<p>Sylvain all but rolls his eyes at me. He tugs his shirt over his head and, making steady eye contact with me, wrings it out in the very center of the floor between our beds. I look at the cascade of rainwater to avoid looking at his body. Guess he feels the need to compensate for something by working out.</p>
<p>"Prick," I mutter. "You're cleaning it up."</p>
<p>"I'm not cleaning shit," he responds, tossing his shirt next to the clothes hamper. That was on purpose. Now he's just trying to piss me off. "It's water. It'll evaporate. That's what it does."</p>
<p>I forcibly put my phone to sleep and toss it aside on the quilt. "Fine. Slip on it and die."</p>
<p>"If it'll get me the fuck out of rooming with your uptight bitch ass?" he shoots back. "Gladly."</p>
<p>I swear a blood vessel next to my eye bursts, I'm seeing so much red. This piece of shit. I stand up, sidestepping the puddle on the floor, not keen on wet socks. The rational side of my brain stands guard at the gates: <em>No, Felix. You're five-eight, he's six-two. You're small. He is built like a truck, and however pissed you are, he's pissed, too. You can't win this fight. Just walk out.</em></p>
<p>Yeah. I'll just let it go. I turn to leave.</p>
<p>As the rainwater seeps into the edge of my sock, so too does the angry side of my brain:<em> Who gives a shit. Fuck him up. You've wanted to all summer.</em></p>
<p>I lift my wet foot. Stare down at it with a heavy breath. And then I turn to Sylvain, launching my fist straight into that handsome jaw of his.</p>
<p>"Fuck!" we both shout. Sylvain holds his face and I cradle my fist. I've watched Glenn throw a couple of punches but he neglected to mention that part. No wonder his knuckles were so fucked up after his high school scuffles. Maybe I did it wrong, but who cares. The pain reverberating through my knuckles is all the sweeter with the trickle of blood on Sylvain's face.</p>
<p>He stares at me through splayed fingers. His golden eyes are feral, wide, the pupils constricted to pinpoints. I can see it in them: he didn't expect that.</p>
<hr/>
<h3>
  <b>SYLVAIN</b>
</h3>
<p>I didn't expect that.</p>
<p>The little bastard actually punched me. Not only that, but it actually <em>stung</em>. Wait. The fuck—is that blood? I flick my tongue across the corner of my mouth, wincing at the familiar, unwholesome taste. I fix my disbelief onto Felix, who's standing there gripping his knuckles. I'm not sure who hurts more in this situation, but I'm sure of one thing:</p>
<p>He's going to be hurting more in a second.</p>
<p>"You sneaky little fuck," I growl, dropping my hand away from my bruised face. It's on now.</p>
<p>"Wait," he begins, but my body is already in full momentum. I couldn't wait even if I wanted to.</p>
<p>I rush him, tackle him into the wall. The entire building shakes. The noise that leaves him is pitiful. If I had more self-control, I'd probably feel bad picking on a little shit half my size, but head's empty—only blind rage.</p>
<p>He's surprisingly slippery for being the dry one in this situation. He slips out of my grasp and avoids my return punch, which slams into the wood paneling. Maybe it'll hurt later; adrenaline is keeping me fueled in the moment. I catch him by his ankle. He whomps face-first onto the floor. I scramble on top of him, putting him into a chokehold.</p>
<p>"You wanna fight then, bitch?" I growl down at him.</p>
<p>"Let... go!" he screams.</p>
<p>"No, you fucking—<em>augh!"</em></p>
<p>Stars fill my vision. It takes me a second to process it. His elbow must have clocked me straight in the temple, or damn close to. The room swivels around Felix, who scurries out from under me and—who the fuck would've thought—kicks me in the face. The fuzzy bat-print socks on his foot don't cushion the blow as much as you'd think.</p>
<p>He goes in for a stomp. I roll out of the way, swinging madly out at him in the process. He goes off balance and falls straight down onto his ass. Well, given that the skinny bitch doesn't <em>have </em>an ass, I imagine he's feeling the shock. Good.</p>
<p>I roll forward, going straight for his hair. Maybe that's a dirty move, but he started it with his sucker punch. It's what he gets for having long hair. He even makes a startlingly girlish noise as he fights me. I drag him back to the middle of the room, dragging us both—but mostly him—into the puddle I left. (Admittedly, I hated doing that, but honestly I just wrung my shirt out there to get a rise out of him. Guess it worked.)</p>
<p>"I'm cleaning it up, Felix," I mutter. "That better?"</p>
<p>He just responds with another girly yelp, kicking his stick legs and punching at my chest. Every one of his punches glances off thanks to my skin being wet. Who would've thought messing around in the rain with Yellow Deer campers would've been so useful in a fight?</p>
<p>Just as I'm about to lose my shit and smash Felix's stupid, pretty face into the floor, the door slams open.</p>
<p>"What the <em>hell </em>is going on here?" Dimitri booms. Dedue squeezes in past him. Next thing I know, I'm across the bedroom, with Felix in the opposite corner huffing, puffing, and bloody-nosed, his hair sticking up in fifteen directions. He charges at me. I swing my fists, but Dedue puts an end to that fast. Dimitri intervenes on the other end. For such a beanpole, he's stronger than he looks, because he literally lifts Felix a foot off the floor and drags him out of the room.</p>
<p>Dedue doesn't let up; I never thought I'd relate so hard to a deer being constricted by an anaconda. After a good minute, I manage to steady my breaths enough to talk.</p>
<p>"You're not gonna believe this, but he totally started it."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for your patience during the hiatus. So many life things happened and I'm in the middle of moving into my new place, so updates are still going to be spotty. I wanted to post this bit to reassure everyone that the fic is still going and I haven't just dropped it. ✨</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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